On the Garden Wall
by Grey Streaked Fur
Summary: Minevera McGonagall spent the entire day at Privet Drive after the fall of Voldemort. The Dursley's, and the rest of their neighborhood, were the worst sort of Muggles. All of them, except one. Canon-compliant. One-shot.


A/N: Here is a one-shot I hope you enjoy. This is a canon-compliant story.

I love feedback, so don't hesitate!

* * *

On November 1st, 1981, a tabby cat with spectacle facial markings sat on the garden wall of number four, Privet Drive. It sternly stared at the the home of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, unmoving.

Minerva McGonagall's back had begun to get stiff as she continued to sit there and observe the house's inhabitants. Even in her feline animagus form, her body wasn't quite as spry as it had once been, yet she refused to leave. She did not know when Albus Dumbledore would be arriving, but she didn't want to risk the chance of missing him. He, of course, did not tell the Deputy Headmistress about his venture to this Muggle place. She had received that information from Rubeus Hagrid. Had it not been for the map he gave her to confirm the address, Minerva would have thought the giant wizard insane. Hagrid had managed to keep quiet as to why the Headmaster would be visiting this place, which was quite the feat for the man. Though he was a good wizard, Hagrid was horrible at keeping secrets.

What business did Albus have in the middle of this most disgustingly boring Muggle neighborhood, especially on the day that the Wizarding world was buzzing with rumors about the death of Britain's horrific dark wizard? That was why Minerva was here. She needed to speak with Dumbledore, the only wizard she could trust to give her the correct information. To confirm or deny these rumors. Her mind had been racing all morning. Could You-Know-Who really be gone? Lily and James Potter couldn't be dead. And their son, Harry...he couldn't be the cause of the dark wizard's disappearance. How would it be possible? She had to get to the bottom of this and she wasn't going to move until she received respectable information.

She had to admit though, sitting on this wall and observing this neighborhood was quite trying. She had watched as the men of the neighborhood had left their identical brick homes at nearly the same time that morning in buttoned shirts and fancy ties and the older children walking to to school together in a tired silence while many of the mother's of the neighborhood stayed at home with their smallest children. The entire neighborhood was horribly boring.

The occupants of number four were by far, the worst Muggles that she had ever seen. The young boy had had three screaming outbursts in the past couple hours, one of which ended with a broken breakfast plate. Instead of scolding the child, the mother simply cooed and comforted the little brat. Then they later went out and the boy cried, kicked, and screamed for sweets. Some parents didn't know how to discipline their children. She hated to think how her coddling would spoil the child beyond repair. Again, she wondered why Albus would be arriving here.

It was sometime during the early afternoon that her silent endeavor was briefly interrupted.

Aside from the occasional jogger or car passing by, nothing outside of the homes had moved since the early morning. That was until she heard some muffled shouting then the echo of a door violently slamming closed somewhere down the road. Minerva allowed herself a glance towards the source of the noise. From her peripheral vision, she saw a young woman angrily stomping down the walkway of number eight. To the witch's dismay, the young woman angrily walked down the sidewalk in her direction. She really didn't want any of the Muggles of this neighborhood getting anywhere near her. Apparently stray cats were not welcome in areas like this, and she did not appreciate being yelled at.

However, as the girl approached her it was apparent that she wasn't made of the same mold as the rest of the street. Instead of the nice button-up shirts or colorful jumpers that she observed many of the neighborhood women wearing, this girl wore a bulky leather jacket and torn trousers. Minerva couldn't help but think of Sirius Black, who had been obsessed with Muggle "Rock Culture" in his school days. Her large, curly hairstyle was frazzled and her makeup streaked in places down her face. In her hands she carried two old suitcases. It was obvious that this young woman was not having a good day.

To her surprise, the girl stopped at the garden wall of the number four and wiped her eyes, smearing her makeup even more. She glanced at her wristwatch and sighed, looking like she was impatiently waiting for someone. Minerva tried to ignore her.

"Mind if I bum around here?"

This time the old witch turned her head to look at the girl in confusion. The girl was staring down at her. Did she know that that cat next to her was an animagus? Minerva tensed up.

The girl sat down on the garden wall next to her.

"Of course you don't mind...You're a cat," she said with a dry laugh. Minerva felt herself relax slightly. She was just some strange Muggle girl who talked to cats like they were people. Weird, but at least it added some color to the dullness of this place. The girl reached towards her. Minerva hissed. At Hogwarts, everyone knew that she was an animagus, and therefore she never had to worry about people attempting to touch her. The idea was both awkward and degrading. She debated moving away from her self-assigned post.

The young woman quickly retracted her hand. "Naw, I get it. I guess I wouldn't want a stranger petting me either." Minerva relaxed, as long she din not try to touch her again she could handle the Muggle sitting next to her. There was a minute of silence before the girl spoke again.

"Ugh. Tanner better hurry his ass up, I am so ready to get out of this hellhole." The girl hiccuped slightly when she spoke. She pulled out a compact mirror and observed her reflection. "Ugh, and I look like shit too."

If she had not been in her cat form, Minerva would have had a stern talking to with the girl about using proper language in front of strangers. Then again, she was just a cat at the moment. The girl began wiping off her makeup with the sleeve of her jacket. Upon closer inspection, the girl looked younger than she had initially thought. She couldn't have been much more than sixteen. She would still be at Hogwarts if she were a witch.

"Once I get out of here, I am never coming back," she sniffed. With a final glance, the teen pocketed the small mirror. Minerva looked down at her suitcases and then back up at the disheveled girl, then down the road to the house that the girl had scrambled from. These factors added up to an unpleasant answer. She felt sorry for the child.

"...Not like there is much business for a tattoo artist out here anyway," the girl added sternly, as though trying hard to convince herself that leaving was the right thing to do. The witch had never understood the tattoo crazy that had started a couple decades ago; who actually wanted to taint their skin with ink? It was bad enough that some of her older students had some that they meticulously covered during class, only to show them off in the hallways like works of art. There had been a sharp decline in the fad because of the Dark Mark, but every once in awhile, she would see a student with various body markings. Minerva couldn't help but roll her eyes.

The Muggle looked slightly baffled for a second, and the witch realized she had made the mistake of expressing a very human expression. Fortunately, the girl shrugged. "Great, now I'm being judged by a cat. A smart cat, but jeez!" She exclaimed to the empty street. "Don't be judging me, kitty cat. You have it easy, no one expects you to be anything but a cat," the girl let out a defeated sigh, "You don't have people telling you how to act or what to be so you'll be a _respectable young lady,_ " she finished the last few words in a shrill, mocking voice. Even if she had been able to speak to the girl, the older woman wouldn't have known how to respond.

The girl continued.

"I _don't_ want to get an office job. I _don't_ want to search for a husband to take care of me. I _don't_ want to have children and become a housewife. And I _don't_ want to be apart of _this_!" She hissed as she gestured at the empty street around her. Minerva stared at the dull exterior of number four thoughtfully, it was just one of countless identical dwellings in this horrid neighborhood. Shed did not blame the girl for wanting something something less boring, something different.

"I've never been good with sitting still, or with children, or with domestic things. Hell, I've never been good enough at school to get into Uni if I wanted. But I am good at art. So that's what I should be doing, right?" She said in a manner that sounded like she was trying to reassure herself. "I'd rather be a happy disappointment, than a mindless housewife whose life revolves around kids and gossip, like my mum. Does that make me crazy?" She asked the animagus.

Minerva let out a quiet meow. No, wanting something more than this kind of life was not crazy, nor was following a personal passion. However, taking like this to a (supposed) cat might be. The girl quirked an eyebrow.

"Wow! You even respond when asked a question. I'd swear you were a human trapped in a cat's body-"

The girl may have said more, but she was interrupted by the honking and screeching tires of a poorly maintained automobile. The girl jumped in surprise, but a smile spread across her face when she looked up. The driver side window rolled down, revealing the young male driver. He looked a couple years older than the girl and donned the same rough type of appearance.

"About time asshole!" The girl scoffed, though her smile never left her face.

"Sorry Polly, I ran into traffic," he answered, giving her a humored look. "I see you've been keeping busy talking to a cat." Polly scowled, grabbing her bags.

"Can you blame me? It's the smartest thing I've talked to all morning! It's certainly more human than my reptile of a mother."

"Never change, darling. Never change," The man laughed. The woman moved towards the rear of the car.

"Just throw 'em in the back. The boot's full of equipment." Polly groaned at the man's instructions, but moved back around the car, yanked open the back door of the vehicle, and threw her two suitcases into the back seat." Before she went around to the passenger side of her friend's car, she turned to McGonagall.

"Thanks for keeping me company," she said, giving her a hearty wave. The witch almost wished she could have waved back. The man, Tanner, even gave her a brief wave before driving down the road and far away from Privet Drive, Little Whinging, and Surrey.

Minerva thought about Polly the rest of the day as she waited for Albus to arrive. The strange Muggle was a welcoming presence in her mind as her other thoughts buzzed with worry over the Potters, You-Know-Who, and baby Harry.

Even after that memorable day of Voldemort's defeat and leaving Harry Potter with his relatives at number four, Privet Drive, Minerva's mind would return to Polly. The odd memory would randomly pop into her head, sometimes over breakfast, sometimes when she graded papers, but mostly when she aided students in their future career endeavors. She wanted them to succeed at what they aspired to be. No matter what it was. She never wanted any of her Gryffindors to feel like Polly had. And when the girl did cross her mind, she silently hoped that she was doing well.

* * *

On the morning of September 3rd, 2000, Polly Sutton sipped her morning coffee. Her foot jiggled anxiously. She impatiently waited for a letter from her son to arrive, her brightly-inked hand rapidly tapped on the kitchen table.

Polly had done well for herself the past nineteen years. It hadn't always been easy, but it had been worth it. After few years of working in diners and bars, she and Tanner married the day she turned eighteen. A few months later, she managed to get a part-time job in a tattoo parlor which eventually turned into full time employment. Her years of hard work lead to loyal customers, which lead to raises and then to becoming the the most favored artist in the shop. She started saving money to open her own parlor.

Then she found out she was pregnant. Fortunately, by that time she was well into her twenties, and the idea didn't terrify her nearly as much as it had in her teenage years. Unfortunately, that meant postponing opening her own shop. A year after her son Zander was born, she continued on her her endeavors as a tattoo artist and a mother.

She finally did manage to open her shop four years ago and it was doing quite well, especially as body art had become more commonplace. Her husband and business partner had suggested opening another shop. In Surrey, no less! The idea was hilarious.

There were sounds of scraping and taps from outside the kitchen window. Polly jumped up in a mix of surprise and excitement. She happily let the large barn owl into her home. It landed gracefully on the countertop and held out its leg, where a roll of parchment had been fastened on. She swiftly untied the letter from the bird; she was still hesitant about touching an owl.

The first time she had encountered such an owl, she had not nearly been as calm and collected about it. On her son's eleventh birthday, that previous May, a similar owl came barreling into their kitchen, just as they were starting breakfast…At the time, Polly thought it was the strangest thing she had ever witnessed.

She saw a lot of stranger things in the following weeks.

Her family learned that there was an entire secret world of magic and other fascinating things from a dwarf of a man who claimed to be a teacher at a magical school, and that her son was now apart of their world. He had left for a school called Hogwarts two days ago, the first time he had ever been so far from home on his own. She was dying to know how he was doing, and dying to know what wonderfully magical things he had come across already. She thanked the bird and offered it the crusts of toast from her breakfast plate. It pecked at a few pieces and then flew back out the window. Unable to wait any longer, Polly unrolled the bit of parchment and hungrily read the chicken scratch that filled the page.

 _Mum & Dad,_

 _I made it to school and have settled in. Hogwarts is the most amazing place; it's a huge castle, bigger than any we have toured together! I can't possibly begin to describe it all. I started taking pictures with the disposable camera dad gave me, but it's the end of the first day of school and I've almost used up the entire roll. You'll have to send me more!_

 _Remember the Hogwarts houses we learned about? This dirty old hat sorts you. It talks! It told me I could go into Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. I asked it what it was like to be a talking hat. It put me in Hufflepuff. Everyone there is really nice! Even our Head of House is really cool, even though she's super old._

 _Classes are kinda boring at the moment. We really haven't been able to use our wands yet, and that's lame. Except for Transfiguration, we tried turning matchsticks into needles. I wasn't really able to do it, though my matchstick did start looking a little silver by the end of class. Headmistress McGonagall teaches that class. She turned her desk into a pig, and she can turn herself into a cat!_

 _I borrowed this owl from the school. I hope it didn't scare you guys as badly as the last owl that came to our house. They have an entire tower full of school and student birds! It's really cool! Can I have an owl? Then I won't have to worry about waiting for the school ones to come around. I promise I'll take care of it! Please?_

 _I'll write again soon!_

 _Zander_

Polly read the letter over several times, trying to absorb all the information she could with what little her son had given to her. It was frustrating having an eleven year old explain a world that only they could see. She would have to rely on the camera Tanner had given him. She had to remember to send him another one when his next letter arrived. Maybe she would talk to her husband about getting an owl for the family… if her son attempted his best in his classes.

She wish she could have seen that teacher turn a desk into a pig or herself into a cat. That sounded bloody amazing. She wondered if her son would ever be able to turn into a cat.

For a brief moment, an old memory flashed through her mind. She vaguely remembered waiting to escape on the sidewalks of her childhood street all those years ago, and the strangely intelligent cat that was sitting on the neighbor's garden wall. Maybe…

"Nah!" Polly said aloud. With the millions of real stray cats around the world, there was little chance that any that she had ever encountered were magical beings in disguise.

Besides, nothing interesting had ever taken place on Privet Drive.


End file.
